


Memoirs of the Broken Few

by bluRaaven, Krila



Category: Darkest Dungeon (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bisexual main character, Demisexual Main Character, Dissociation, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, M/M, Post-Apocalypse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Redemption, Violence, alternative universe
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-21
Updated: 2017-10-12
Packaged: 2018-11-03 10:57:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10965822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluRaaven/pseuds/bluRaaven, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Krila/pseuds/Krila
Summary: A new take on the story of Darkest Dungeon, set in a modern, post-apocalyptic world.When the young journalist Suki Hanou suddenly inherits an old estate from her mysterious ancestor, she gathers a bunch of mismatched adventurers from all corners of a crumbling society to help her uncover the story of the century. And it probably won't just be about the secret facility underneath a ruined manor.[UPDATE, 12.10.17]: Chapter 1 is now fully uploaded, replacing the sneak peek!





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Please enjoy this sneak-peek of our upcoming Darkest Dungeon AU! The story is currently a work in progress, and should come out in fall/winter 2017.
> 
> We have The Tumble! Find us here for more info and previews:  
> bluraaven.tumblr.com or  
> kriladoodles.tumblr.com

Despite it being earlier than the time they'd agreed upon, Dismas was not the first to arrive at the former bus station, a few miles outside of Arlip's center.  It was a squat grey shelter, but beneath the concrete roof one could at least find refuge from the pouring rain.  The outdated schedule and map in the back reminded of an era when what was now called the Old World still had had an infrastructure.  On weekends, the line 1614 would take passengers from the suburbs to the big city in hourly intervals.  These days, weeds and saplings grew out of the cracks in the pavement, and the smiling faces on a nearby advertisement poster had long since faded to colourless outlines.  

               Dismas' employer, a woman called Suki Hanou, already sat on one of the rusted benches.  A backpack that was close to bursting at the seams and two large suitcases were piled around her feet.  The young journalist was furiously typing away on a notebook that sat in her lap, only reaching up from time to time to brush away a strand of hair that had escaped her neat ponytail.  As far as bosses went, Dismas had had worse.  

               By Suki's side sat a man who – well hello there!  He had a handsome, tanned face framed by a short beard and a mop of brown, wavy hair, the tips of which were lighter, bleached by the sun.  A Southerner, then.  

               But then Dismas' gaze wandered lower and he saw the man's getup: He was dressed in full battle gear, including a bulletproof vest.  A sun was stitched to the sleeve of the jacket he wore underneath and a heavy-duty helmet rested on his knees.  Add the assault rifle slung over one broad shoulder and the fucking _sword_ on his belt, and Dismas briefly considered turning around and legging it right back into the city.  

               As that would mean having to spend more time in the downpour, he decided against it and walked up to the two of them, unceremoniously dropping his own duffle bag on the free bench.  

               "Really?" Dismas asked in place of a greeting.  "I know you said you had contacts, but where on this scorched earth did ya find a Crusader, lass?"  

               "Secret of the trade, I'm afraid," Suki answered, then looked up from her notes and shrugged at Dismas with a smile.  "Glad you made it.  Dismas, meet Reynauld – Reynauld, this is Dismas."  

               Reynauld gave the new arrival a once-over.  The man looked like a vagabond.  His clothes were shabby, and he wore a heavy coat that was patched in at least a dozen places, contrasting with the slightly antiquated but clearly well maintained six-shooter on his hip.  

               Dismas had the face of a man who had spent his entire life outdoors; gaunt and weather-beaten, and with deep-set black eyes that were currently regarding Reynauld in a calculating manner.  

               The soldier noticed how the other man's gaze caught on the Order's badge, before quickly flittering away.  Reynauld thought that Dismas had the air of someone who attracted trouble and enjoyed starting fights.  At least according to his broken nose and crooked jaw.  

               The soldier turned to watch the road again.  The bus was late.  

               Since 'Reynauld' stayed quiet, Dismas nodded at the man and took off his coat to shake it out properly.  "Let me guess, she pulled ya out of that Abbey near the main square?"  

               "At least she didn't pull me out of the dumpster," Reynauld responded coldly.  Whoever had punched Dismas must have had good reason.  

               "Oh, it talks," Dismas huffed, but the rest of his retort was interrupted from behind by a new voice with a thick northern accent.

               "Easy now, gentlemen."  

            Another person had jogged through the rain towards them.  When Dismas turned, he looked at a middle aged man with a bag in one hand and a leash in the other.  His shaggy blond hair and beard, both greying with age, gave him an uncanny resemblance to the huge and equally shaggy hound by his side.  The stitching on the dog's protective harness had been ripped off, but Dismas recognized a K9 cop unit when he saw one.  

               Suki however, smiled and got up for a friendly handshake.  "Glad you made it in this weather.  So let's see.  Everyone, this is Sergeant Brodhan McAlister, an old friend."

               "Mornin'.  The smelly missy here's Laika," the man rumbled, upon which the dog started to shake water out of her pelt.  

               "Pleasure," Dismas said in a tone that indicated it very much wasn't.  A cop and a Crusader?  The fuck did he get himself into?  

               Suki either missed or ignored his rude demeanour and looked down the rainy road.  "That means only Nora is missing.  Well, she and the bus."  

               Reynauld gave the officer a nod, without offering handshakes.  This was already more people than he was comfortable with having around him, enough to make him want to reach for the small tin can he kept in a breast pocket out of habit.  But that was for emergencies only.  The addition of another companion, a lanky blonde woman with a ridiculously oversized hat who trotted over a couple of minutes later, was anything but.  The drive, however, would be another matter.  

               "Sorry I'm late!  Couldn't find a ride with half of Arlip under water."  The woman gave them all a big, broad smile and a wave.  "Pleasure to meet you lot.  Bus not here yet?"  

               "Nora, you made it!"  Suki answered, filling in for three brooding men.  "Nah, though it's not surprising in this weather.  Reynauld, Dismas, and Brodhan are already here, so the only thing left is to hope we get there in one piece.  It's not like anyone's doing much roadwork these days."  

               "There's worse things on the road than mossy potholes, lass," Dismas replied and gave the new arrival a closer look.  Finally, he liked what he saw.  Over the years Dismas had learned to recognize a kindred spirit.  "Love the hat, sweetheart," he grinned.  "Saves you the trouble of an umbrella."  

               "Maybe you should have chartered a boat, Suki."  Nora laughed and sat down next to the man her friend and employer had introduced as Dismas.  "Love the scarf, hun.  Didn't have a towel at hand?" she shot back, tongue-in-cheek.  Then, she slightly inclined her head in the direction of the guy in full combat gear with a lifted eyebrow, as if to ask 'what's up with him?'  

               "Nah, red's just my colour," Dismas replied.  Yeah, at least with her he'd get along fine.  At her silent question, he shrugged and warningly tilted his outstretched hand a few times where none of the others could see it. _Be careful with that one._  

               When the man did glance over to them, Dismas gave him a leery grin.  "Don't worry, love, your outfit is very pretty too."  

               Meanwhile, completely oblivious to their exchange from showering Laika with love, Suki raised her head and promptly jumped up.  "Look!  The bus – I think.  Shit, how does it even drive?"  

               Everyone else turned their heads when Suki pointed down the road; and indeed, there was a bus headed their way.  It was so old and run-down, Reynauld should consider himself blessed to witness the miracle of it still driving.  Instead, he only felt sick to the pit of his stomach.  

               With several worrying noises, the bus came to a halt right in front of their small shelter and the front doors opened to reveal the driver – a man who looked just as ancient and fucked up as the vehicle he was driving.  Even Dismas, who'd seen plenty of crazy and feral folk in his time, both on the road and in prison, raised a silent eyebrow.  

               For a few awkward seconds, the old codger just stared at them until he spotted Suki, then his face split into a wide, toothless grin and he climbed out of his seat with surprising agility.  Dismas instinctively clutched his bag tighter, resting his hand on his colt.  

               "Miss Hanou, yes? Oh, a pleasure, a true pleasure to meet the heiress!  Yes, yes, I'm the Caretaker!  You see, I drive, I clean, I take care."  His weird cackle confirmed Dismas' 'complete nutcase' theory.  

               "I'll take care of your bags too, I will!  Please, please, this way."  The Caretaker reached out for their luggage with bony hands.  

               "This guy is craaaazy," Nora whispered to Dismas in a singsong voice.  "Let's go!"  She grabbed her own bag – no way she was letting that... that _Caretaker_ get his gnarled, warty hands on her possessions, and hurried after the soldier who'd had the right idea storming the bus, sitting down.  

               "No thanks, m'good," Dismas mumbled at the increasingly disappointed madman, and tightly clutched his duffel bag to his chest, before following Nora onto the bus.  He picked a pair of seats right by the middle door, which guaranteed him a quick way to get out if things went to shit.  

               Suki had handed the Caretaker her own bags with a nervous smile  and sat down near the front, the sergeant and his dog joining her.  The cop had kept his bags as well and gave Dismas and Nora a suspicious look before sitting down.  Meanwhile, the Crusader made himself comfortable in the back row.  Fucker.  

               "Hey, is it ok if I sit with you?"  Nora had come up to Dismas, pointing at the seat next to him.

               "All yours, sweetheart," Dismas grinned and took his legs off the cushions to make room for her.  "At least until I wanna grab some shuteye."  

               With a vicious screech the doors closed and the Caretaker returned to his seat behind the wheel, twisting around to look down the aisle.  "Last stop is the Hamlet!" he cackled and started driving, though none too gently.  

               "Do you play cards?" Nora asked once she'd caught her bearings over their sudden and rather bumpy departure.  

               "I sure do.  My deck or yours?"  

               "Mine of course!" she replied with a cheeky grin.  "I stacked it in my favour!"  

               "'Course you did!" Dismas replied – he'd done the same to his own.  But she was polite enough to let him shuffle the cards under her watchful eye.  

               "So," he finally asked, after he'd dealt out and they'd passed the first watchpoint along the road.  "How'd the girl drag you into this?  I daresay you ain't of the same make as that cop and the huffy Holiness in the back."  

               "I'm an archaeologist," Nora answered.  "If there's ruins to be discovered, you can count me in."  

               "Mhm," Dismas grinned, not believing a word of it.  "Plenty of ruins expected outside the New Cities.  Though I can't say I ever met an archaeologists that carried that much edge around with 'em."  He'd caught a glimpse of several throwing blades on the inside of her jacket when she'd placed her bags in the overhead compartment.  

               "True.  But some of these are also crawling with nasties, so it pays to come prepared.  I'm mean with a spade."  

               "With a spade?" Dismas snorted.  "Well, as far as weapons of choice go, at least it's solid and handy."  He didn't push the matter of legality further – not like he was in any position for it.  "So let's see, apart from me, we have a journalist, an archaeologist, an ex-cop and a Crusader, probably 'ex' too.  Feels like the start of a bad joke."  He briefly glanced to the back of the bus before looking at Nora again.  "Honestly, I have no idea how that girl manages her sources.  What do you make of the Holy Armour back there?"  

               Nora too chanced a look back, but the topic of their conversation thankfully had his eyes closed.  "Honestly, I'm a bit scared of him.  Man runs around with a rosary and an assault rifle, well... ," she tapped her temple lightly and shrugged.  

               Dismas silently nodded in agreement.  "I guess we'll find out soon enough just how sane he is – and how well he handles that rifle.  And that damn sword."  He shook his head.  "Crusader in this part of the world means trouble, I say."  

               "Think he's," Nora leaned forward so the man behind them couldn't overhear, even though that was unlikely with how the bus rattled and creaked.  "Spying?"

               "For whom?" Dismas shrugged, though the thought wasn't entirely ridiculous.  "His order ain't exactly the subtle type.  They're the vanguard, heavy hitters who also make sure all reclaimed land has the proper amount of abbeys littered across.  And the Light don't actively persecute 'heathens' anymore, far as I know.  I mean, it's not entirely unlikely, but he looks more like a deserter to me."  

               " _As far as you know_ ," Nora repeated sweetly.  "But yeah, you're right.  He looks a bit rough."  

               "I guess we'll find out soon enough," Dismas conceded wearily.  "I hope you keep that spade close by, sweetheart."  

               "I always do," she assured him.  "I always do."  

               The bus passed the last watchpoint that marked Arlip 'safe' perimeter.  Out of habit, Dismas turned his face away from the eyes of the patrolling guard.  Beyond the gates, the open road stretched out before them.  It was mostly wild lands with a few minor settlements between here and their destination.  At the familiar sight, Dismas couldn't help but let out a small sigh of relief, a tension he hadn't even noticed falling off his shoulders. This was his terrain, his home. Fuck the cities, he needed open roads and wilderness to feel safe.

               "Ah," Nora sighed, watching the small military base and its electric lights and fences disappear in the distance.  She pulled a bottle of whiskey from her pack, raised it and took a swig from it.  "Here's to the butt end of nowhere."  

               Dismas grinned and pulled out a flask of his own, clinking it against hers before taking a gulp as well.  "Let's hope it stays boring until we reach that Hamlet."  

                After a while though, the bus drew to a stop at a shoddy little station.  A family of four sat there, huddled together under the small shelter.  Although they seemed to be going in the same direction, none of them got in when the Caretaker opened the door.  Instead, fearful eyes pointedly looked away, and the young mother pulled her two children closer to her herself.  The Caretaker just smiled in that creepy way of his, closed the door and drove on.

               "Did you see their faces?" Nora chuckled.  "I bet we had the same looks when that old codger jumped out of the bus."

               "Yeah, can't exactly blame them," Dismas agreed.  "He don't have the most inviting nature – or the most reliable looking bus."  As if on cue, they hit a pothole and Dismas winced when he hit his elbow on the window.  "Still, it's a popular route, at least the first part of it.  You'd think they'd take the chance to get out of that piss."  He nodded at the window.  

               Nora shrugged.  "What do I know?  Maybe we don't look like the most inviting bunch either.  She saw your mug and decided she prefers the rain."  

               "What, my mug not to your liking?" Dismas gave her an amused smirk.  "And here I thought you were the only decent company around."  

               Nora broke out into a cackle, then whispered, "Oh, but I _am_.  How long did they say the drive was again?"  

               "Bit longer than twenty-four hours."  

               Nora groaned.  "Sounds like fun."  

               Dismas sighed, then handed her the card deck back with an apologetic smile.  "Which means I'll use the time to get some rest.  And since the gentleman back there is currently occupying the only decent bench for himself, you gotta get your own bed, sweetheart.  I wanna stretch my legs some before the next round."  

               Nora snorted, but took back her cards, got up, and wished him sweet dreams.  

               The rest of the day went by in a rainy, boring haze.  Dismas killed time by sleeping, talking with Nora or playing cards with her, all in changing intervals.  The bus stopped several more times for other passengers, but not once did anybody get on it with them.  Eventually, the bus stops became rarer and rarer as the countryside became more

               Around mid afternoon Suki had walked up to the Caretaker to ask for a break and they stopped at an abandoned roadside full of picnic tables.  Apparently, Laika needed her walkies, but Dismas welcomed the pee-break as well.  

               Everybody except for the soldier in the back was getting up, eager to get out, even if it was only for a couple of minutes.  "He looks like he's out cold," Dismas commented towards Nora when a glance at Reynauld confirmed the crusader was still lying on the back seats.  "Think we should wake him up?"

               "You go right ahead, I'll be cheering you on from the sidelines," Nora said, stretching and knuckling her back.  

               "Figures," Dismas huffed but went down the aisle nonetheless, leaning against the second last row of seats to get a look at the man.  He did appear to be fast asleep, hands clasped around a dark wooden rosary, because of course they were.When a quick check for earbuds showed that he didn't have any, Dismas loudly cleared his throat.  He knew better than to touch an armed, sleeping man unless absolutely necessary.  

               The bus had stopped moving, but this time it did not start immediately after like it had before.  Then there was a feeling of being watched, and when Reynauld opened his eyes, the trash-talking gunslinger was standing over him.  

               "Oh good, you're up!"  Dismas swung away from the seat he'd been leaning on and clapped its headrest twice.  

            Reynauld's breath caught in his throat, and for a split second it wasn't Dismas looking at him, but another man, a ghost from his past.  

            _Hey!  Hey, Rey!_

            _Hm?_  Reynauld remembered turning away from his pack, momentarily blinded by the unforgiving desert sun.  

            Guyot was kneeling on the seat before him, drumming a beat on the headrest with the palms of his hands.  But there was something not right about the picture.  His hair has been auburn, and his eyes green and not black, not at all like those of the man before him now.  Gone were the freckles, the cheeky grin, and then the sun, as if extinguished by some higher power.  It took Reynauld a moment to realize Dismas was still talking.  

            Dismas had already been partway into an explanation of their current whereabouts when he stopped, took a closer look at the Crusader and realized that the man wasn't actually listening.  There was a blank look on his face, one that spoke of him being miles away.  Great. He better be more focused in a damn fight. Dismas gave the man a calculating look and carefully started over.

            "Pee-break, thought you wanted to take the opportunity to stretch your legs and whatnot.  It's still raining though."  

            Reynauld searched for an answer, but sometimes the words, although so simple and already formed in his head, just wouldn't come.  Most of the time he had little to no energy for any form of social interaction anyway, the White wasn't helping in that regard, and he was still fighting off the vision of his best friend being incinerated in the explosion that had spelled the end of his career and was directly responsible for him being here.  

            In the end, he simply nodded and got up, leaving behind his backpack but not his weapons.  Reynauld followed the others to a small and overgrown picnic area, the relief from being out of the vehicle instantly washing over him despite the fact that Dismas had been right; the weather was just as disagreeable as it had been throughout their trip.  The novelty of rain had worn off rather quickly and Reynauld wished for a hood to pull up as he wandered off in search of a spot where he could relieve himself in peace.

            Oh well.  Dismas smiled and left the man to his business.  He'd get him to talk eventually.  Until then, he didn't mind watching him leave all that much – those combat pants were rather flattering, and who was he to ignore a nice ass when he saw one?

            Silently, Dismas had to admit that the rest of the soldier didn't look too bad either.  He'd gotten a better glance at the man's face while he'd been sleeping and taken some time to admire it: Full lips, relatively unmarred skin, a strong jawline… seriously, his face reminded Dismas more of one of those Old World movie actors or models, rather than a battle-worn soldier. He looked young though, even the slightly scruffy beard couldn't hide that  – if pressed, Dismas would guess Reynauld to be somewhere around thirty years old.   
But even with sleep softening the man's features, one could see the effects of battle and trauma in the sunken eyes, the lines on his forehead and the tightness of his mouth.  It made him wonder just what kinda things the soldier had seen down south.

            By the time Dismas realized that he was still thinking about Reynauld's damn face while staring after his ass, the soldier had already left the bus.  Dismas forcefully pulled himself back together and shook his head like a dog shaking off water to get rid of those thoughts.  Caught up on a pretty face and ass like he'd never seen either.  The fuck was wrong with him?  It wasn't like he'd had much of a dry spell during his week-long crawl through Arlip's bars, pubs and fight dens, so why did he get so hung up on it now?  Well, whatever.  No harm in looking, after all.

            As he passed Nora on the way to relieve himself, Dismas winked at her.  "You know, he's almost prettier than you, sweetheart," he teased.  "For a maybe-deserting, AR-wieldin' zealot, at least."  

            "The impudence you have!" Nora gasped, one hand resting on her décolleté, mimicking shock.  She waited until Reynauld had returned from his trip to nature loo so she could form an educated second opinion, then bent closer to Dismas to hum an affirmative.  "I'd totally tap that if it wasn't so... angry."  

               "Ah, I bet he's a proper gentleman behind all that jaded soldier demeanour.  Maybe even a shy virgin," Dismas laughed.  "Come on, Caretaker's back.  Seems like the break's over."  

               Nora snorted.  "If you say so.  Alright, can't wait 'till we're finally there."  

               "Don't expect too much, lass," Brodhan huffed after calling Laika to his side.  "It ain't much to look forward to," he said as he lined up behind them.  

               "Can't be worse than the bus," Nora answered.  "My brain's still rattling around in my skull from that one pothole."  

               "Well, from personal experience I can tell ye it's an unsecured backwater shithole so... take yer pick," the unkempt man huffed once they were back inside the Rustmobile, and flopped down on a free bench while his dog hopped on the one behind him.  

               "And apparently, I now own the place," Suki sighed as the bus sped up again.  

            The back row wasn't a good place to be, but it was better than the other available ones, with the rest of the group scattered all over the bus and none too close, and his backpack repurposed as a backrest.  Reynauld pulled out his rosary again, running his thumb over the beads which were smooth and shiny with wear.  

            He would have liked to sleep, to just pass out and wake up when the ride was over, but unfortunately that was out of the question.  White Noise was keeping him awake, and the best way for him to get some manner of rest was to close his eyes and say the Light's Grace, and any other prayer that he could think of.  The repetitiveness was soothing, and it kept his mind from wandering.  

            And then, from one second to another, everything crumbled.  

            An explosion shook the bus, the book mixing with screams and the sound of screeching tires.  

               "Ah, FUCK!" Dismas had just gotten halfway comfortable in his early evening snooze when the bus suddenly made a wild swerve and came to a screeching halt, so suddenly that he banged his head against the seats in front of him, falling halfway into the leg space.  He wasn't the only one.  He could hear Brodhan and Nora cursing wildly, and even the dog yipped in surprise.  Then it was silent again, the bus having come to a standstill.  Immediately he sat up, colt drawn and peaked out of the window for any possible ambushers.  Nothing.  

               "What the feckin' hell, man?!"  Brodhan asked the Caretaker who'd turned off the engine and stumbled out from the driver's seat.  

               "Terribly sorry I am, terribly sorry," he mumbled.  "The wheel, I think.  Weak, weak wheel!"  

               Dismas slowly calmed down and, after exchanging a look with Nora, glanced back to the Crusader.  Who looked anything but good.  "Hey," he called out.  "You alright?"  

            Reynauld didn't understand what was going on.  People were milling about, but no one took charge, gave any matter of orders when they had to form up and move out to fight back the enemy.  He'd been shot at and bombed enough times, so he knelt down, and readied his gun with a sick feeling in his stomach and his heart in his throat.  

            "Shit!" Dismas cursed when he saw the soldier ready his gun as if on autopilot and he looked at Nora.  "Get them all out of here, I think he's a goner.  Go!"  

               "Who– oh.  Shit!"  Brodhan now saw it too.  "Laika! Out, go!"  

               Careful to show his face and hands at all times, Dismas slowly walked down the aisle, weapons where the man could see them.  "Hey, holy guy – Reynauld, right?"  Dismas knelt down in front of him.  "You with me?  Come on, deep breaths."  

            They were leaving now; good.  If the bus blew up they'd burn.  Reynauld could almost feel the heat of the flames, see that orange glow behind his eyelids.  

            Guyot's smiling face was in there too, somewhere.   _Hey, Rey!_

            He should have died too that day, but the Light had not seen fit to bestow such mercy upon him.  There was a part of him that recognized the lack of screams, and fire whether real or from guns, but there was no fighting the part that had spent the last seven years this very thing.One stayed behind.  Injured, or in shock, or  Before the other man could flinch he had him in a lockhold and was getting them both out – his pack, the rest of the belongings,  none of it mattered.  

            "What the– hmpf!"  Dismas had no time to react when  suddenly two strong arms had effectively pinned his limbs and then the soldier was dragging him down the aisle with only half-surprising strength.  "Fucking– HEY!  Let me go!"  It was to no avail.  Panic welled up before Dismas pushed it down again, noticing how the Crusader did nothing more than evacuate him by force.  

            They made it out, and Reynauld was hit by an icy shower.  Now that – that was wrong.  It was enough of a shock for him to pause in confusion for a moment.  When it rained, it was just few warm drops that evaporated as soon they hit the parched earth, not this – not a torrent of cold water that turned the ground into mud.  He wanted to ask where he was and what was happening, but the words, although fully formed in his mind, wouldn't make it past his lips.  

            Apparently the rain did the job and the Crusader stopped dead in his tracks, slowly coming to his senses.  Dismas risked a look up at Reynauld's face – he was deep in thought and obviously haunted by the memory of something, but at least he seemed to be more receptive to the outside world again.  Still, Dismas remained where he was, refraining from elbowing him in the head for now.  

            "There, good! That's it, stay calm, take a few breaths.  You with me, soldier?  You're about a day's drive north of Arlip, it's, what, nine at night?  You're safe.  There's no attack.  Can anyone else explain what happened by now?"  The last part Dismas yelled at the lot of miserably drenched onlookers, who huddled together under the one small umbrella Suki had wisely grabbed upon evac.  

            Reynauld was trying to fit the pieces together in his head, but they wouldn't make a complete picture.  The guy was talking again; his lips were moving.  Reynauld wished he'd stop as it was pointless anyway.  He jerked violently at the shout though, scanning his surroundings, bracing his gun.  The other people were not soldiers.   Civilians?  They looked scared.  Slowly it began to sink in that this was one of those times.  When everything was a confusing jumble of events he could make no sense of.  

            Dismas could feel the soldier wincing and cursed under his breath.  Right.  No shouting then.  He glared at Brodhan who'd curled his hand tighter into Laika's neck and had placed a hand on the shock baton at his hip.  

            In the soldier's confusion, Dismas managed to wriggle one arm free and place it on the one still squarely wrapped around his neck.  "Right, let's try contact.  Can you talk to me, Reynauld?  Come on, it's pouring, let's have a meltdown somewhere dry, alright?"

            Reynauld looked at the man, really looked, and realized he knew him… fleetingly.  He tried to recall his name.  They'd been introduced. _Suki_ had introduced them.  He focused on that and after a while he remembered.  Dismas.  It was something.  Something to hold on to.  Reynauld shook his head and tapped his ear.  Other sensations were beginning to filter in as well.  The ache from his locked up muscles.  His hair, plastered to his head from rain this time rather than sweat and blood.  

            There was probably still the blood rushing in his ears.  Dismas sighed and nodded, deciding to wait a little longer.   "Can you talk?" he eventually asked.  "You with us again?"  Sooner or later, he'd just have to knock the soldier out if he kept being unresponsive. It wouldn't be the easiest feat, but they needed to move into cover.  While there had been no actual attack so far, they were sitting ducks out on the road and Dismas really didn't like it.  He never liked it when his professional experience kicked in from the side of the prey, not the hunter.  

            Reynauld repeated the action of shaking his head and tapping his ear.  At least everything else around him was becoming more focused, more real.  He realized he was still holding the guy – Dismas – and let go of him, reaching into his pocket for the rosary he always kept there, before stumbling away from the group on legs that were stiff and unresponsive.  

            Dismas simply slumped over, hands on his knees, feeling very relieved all of a sudden.  It was still a fucking terrible situation, but it could've gone a lot worse.  

            "Fucking hell, how do comfort plushies deal with that on a daily basis?" he wheezed out, but then pulled himself together and, carefully, gave chase.

            Reynauld rounded the bus; it smelled of exhaust fumes and hot brake pads, and he felt like being sick, which he might well have been if he had eaten breakfast.  Small mercies.  He sank down a little ways off, waiting for the shakes to start.  Having expected them unfortunately didn't make them any more pleasant.  

            Brodhan, meanwhile, had ordered his dog to follow as well, and the animal understood well enough.  Oh his sign, Laika sat down next to the startled Crusader and pressed her wet nose into his free hand.  

            Reynauld prayed, each beat a prayer, over and over again, the repetition of it bringing him down to a point where he no longer felt like he was drowning.  His breathing turned ragged but regular, and all the while the dog sat with him, licking his hands and panting.  

               "Shit.  Should we – should we do something?"  Suki carefully held the umbrella so both Nora and Brodhan could get at least some amount of coverage – the latter smelled as much of wet dog as the actual dog.  

               Nora shrugged and kept watching Dismas who seemed to be doing just fine.  "Maybe let's give them some space?" she suggested.  

               "You're probably right," Suki agreed.  "I'll go see if our batshit chauffeur needs a hand.  Umbrella's yours."  

               In the meantime, Dismas carefully stopped beneath a tree, a few metres away from the collapsed Reynauld.  Near enough that the man could sense his presence, but far enough so as not to crowd him.  And despite his instinctive dislike of the cop, he was sure glad they had that dog on board.  

            "Are you good to talk?" Dismas asked after a while, when Reynauld's breathing had calmed enough to for it to return to a regular rhythm.  

               Reynauld turned his head so he could hear better, and after a moment, gave a slight nod.  Perhaps even worse than the actual panic of believing himself to be under attack was dealing with the aftermath.  There was always the question of what if he had hurt someone, the guilt.  The anger.  The shame.  He'd be a long time praying for it to ebb again.  

               "Good."  Dismas carefully approached and sat down next to Reynauld in the tall grass.  He was already drenched to the bone so it wouldn't matter much.  "Let me guess – frontline deserter?"  

            Reynauld had to suppress the initial urge to punch the other man in the face.  At least it was harder to be panicking when you were furious.  "We were on our way from Bakhar to Tirna," he told Dismas in a tight, controlled voice.  "The bus got bombed."  He had survived only because the blast had knocked him through the bus's back window.  "I was discharged."  Presumed dead.

               "Well, shit."  Dismas closed his eyes with a sigh and leaned his head against the back of the bus.  "My condolences."  A pause went by, filled with nothing but the splatter of the rain, then Dismas continued.  "Look, I guess it don't really matter how you got out, only that it happened.  But you gotta talk to the Hanou girl about this."  

               Shit.  A fitting word to describe the whole mess of a situation.  Maybe given enough time with people who knew how to treat this.  But he had neither, and had to make do.  

               Reynauld let his head hang between his knees, breathed, and waited for the wave of exhaustion to crash over him.  

               "So how are you holdin' up?" Dismas eventually asked.  "Right now I mean, 'cause we gotta get moving."  He gave the man an intense look.  "There ain't no sweettalking this. Out here, either the rain'll get us or an actual ambush.  Can ya pull yourself together for a little longer; just so we can get out of the wildlands?"

               Reynauld considered the question but the truth was there was no getting back on the bus for him.  "Could you get my things from the bus?  You can go straight away; I'll walk."  

               "Wha– are you fucking kidding me?!"  Dismas had his patience, had remembered his lessons but even he had a limit and he'd reached it with the crusader.  "Look, I get the 'no bus' thing and I get the 'avoid people' thing but if you think we're just gonna let an utterly unstable Crusader with an assault rifle and a fucking sword run around alone through the wild, well think again, Sunshine! You wouldn't last through the night!"  

               "Don't call me that!" Reynauld growled, bristling at the derogatory term often used for soldiers of the Order and at Dismas' overbearing way in equal measure.  He had walked over two thousand miles from the Blessed Lands, at least one third of it through enemy territory and active war zone.  He'd survive some trees and mud.   Reynauld climbed to his feet.  

               "Hey, HEY!  Where do you think you're going?!"  Dismas jumped up and so did Laika behind them, shaking water out of her pelt.   "Stop being stubborn, it'll get you killed, especially in this state!  No way you're walking alone through the night!"  

               "Actually," Brodhan had heard the last bit and he sounded as pissed as he looked.  "It seems like we're all going to be walking.  That old codger's got no spare wheel and if we stay here we'll have bandits swarming us like wasps before dawn.  Get your bags, both of you.  You alright there, soldier?"  

               Perhaps relief was the wrong emotion to feel upon learning that they were practically stranded out here with the threat of an ambush looming over them, but nonetheless that was all Reynauld felt at that moment.  The danger allowed him to become functional again.  He gave the officer a nod and the dog a pat, and once more asked Dismas to get his effects.  Going back on that bus was not an option, not yet.

               "Yeah, yeah, I'll get the damn bags," Dismas grumbled and went to work.  He'd been choked, drenched and almost shot before they'd even reached their destination.  He took the time to change into somewhat drier clothes on the bus first and finally slip into his jacket – he hadn't had the time to take it with him before getting dragged out by the scruff of his neck.  At this point, he was proud of himself for not having stabbed anyone yet.

               Reynauld picked up his bag.  Its contents were pretty much unchanged from his army days, and most of it was ammo, clothes, and what was necessary for survival  The others would have to sort through their belongings, leave behind what was unnecessary or at least redistribute the weight.  

               Suki wasn't actively showing it, but the reporter was furious while having to reduce her spare clothes and media gear down to what would fit into her backpack.  She could only hope the Caretaker would get the bus back on track and that nothing would go missing by then, but she highly doubted it.  

               Bag slung over her shoulder, she joined Brodhan and the old driver at the tip of their little group.  "Everyone ready?  Then let's go before the mould starts to set in!" 


	2. Sneak Peek

"Not far, not far," the Caretaker mumbled in what was supposedly an encouraging voice, but Dismas had definitely stopped taking anything from the old man at face value.  

            "Well this is a good start," he said to Nora, joining her in the back of their little caravan.  

            "Splendid," she agreed and tried to channel her fury into every stride, but it only helped so much.  They had been hours away from their destination – by bus.  Walking there might well take them the rest of the day, if not longer. 

            "And the actual adventure hasn't even started yet," Dismas agreed with a weary sigh.  "I'll probably come down with a cold as soon as we reach that damn Hamlet."  

            "It will be a miracle if we don't all get ill," Nora warily agreed.  "What happened back there?" she finally asked, tilting her head slightly at Reynauld, who was in front of them.  

            Dismas paused, carefully considering his words and making sure that Reynauld was out of earshot before replying.  "Man had a flashback," he said.  "From the exploding tire.  Not really my story to tell but since it's important to know, don't snitch on me, yeah?"  

            "Cross my heart," Nora promised, one had resting on her chest.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 12.10.2017: a new sneak peek for you to enjoy while we work on finishing the story!


	3. Sneak Peek

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another fresh teaser from chapter 2 for you, full chapter to follow shortly!

"Coming!" Jubert shouted, grabbed the order of three beers and made his way back to the counter, rag tossed over his shoulder.  Rain had half the bloody town in his bar, and there was an even larger group standing huddled together right next to the entrance, drenched, muddy, and looking as out of place as one could.  Jubert slid the drinks across the counter, then turned to the man in the front.  He had the look of someone who could become a patron.  "Yeah?" 

            "Any chance you got another five of those back there?" was the first thing to slip out of Dismas' mouth, and he winced when he got elbowed by his employer. 

            "And would you perhaps have rooms for five people? Or know of a place that has?  It's been quite the trek here." 

            Behind him, Laika whined in agreement.  

            "I got three double rooms, if you've got the coin," the barkeeper answered.  "And plenty of drinks." 

            "You know what, get me double scotch," Dismas grumbled at the barkeeper.  He was doing the math already and it did not look rosy for him.

            "Three?" Suki repeated and then sighed in defeat.  "Right, what's the rate?  We might need them for quite a while."  She looked over her shoulder with an apologetic smile.  "Hope that's fine with everyone.  Nora, want to bunk with me?" 

            Jubert gave them the rate, and got the black-haired man his whiskey.  "Well?  You're taking them?" 

            Suki grumbled a bit over the price but it was still fair enough and she could afford it, so she agreed and paid the required amount up front. 

            "Guess we'll share then?" Brodhan asked Dismas with little to no enthusiasm, but the highwayman only huffed around his drink.  

            "Forget it.  With Laika you count as two people, both in space, noise and, no offense, _smell_.  If he doesn't mind I'll share with the– "  As he looked around the bar, Dismas quickly noted that their resident PTSD disaster was gone and he cursed.  "Shit!  He ran off." 


End file.
